IotI: Won't Back Down
by pyrogambit
Summary: Sequel to IotI: Violence Fetish It has been three months since things had settled down. The Resistance is getting back on its feet, but can it handle another loss? And can its leaders deal with their demons before Gearson returns?
1. prologue

Thank you, **Ratdogtwo** for your review at the end of _Violence Fetish. _Yes, this story is a romantic interlude of sorts. But we promise there will be action. This is just sort of a way to build on the characters and have a little romancing going on. There WILL BE ACTION!!!

kmf's stuff: again, **DON'T READ UNLESS YOU'VE READ OUR OTHERS! **enjoy!

curt's crap: whee. moving forward.

_

* * *

_

-----t-h-e---t-r-u-t-h---b-e-h-i-n-d---y-o-u-r---e-y-e-s-----

**Prologue**

"Marie, honey. You're looking like you're in another realm."

It took a minute for Kimana's smooth, dark voice to register with Marie. She blinked, finally coming back to reality. "I...I just been kinda outta it, y'know?"

Kimana cocked her head, all ears. She was more or less the therapist for the group, and found the role to her liking. She liked to learn how people functioned. She wanted to try and help. "What from, love?"

"You done been hangin' around that Stuart too much," Marie said, allowing a smile to light up her pale face. Kimana also saw that it was a half-hearted attempt to change the subject, but she'd play on with this vein for the moment.

"And you've been hanging around Remy too much. Have you noticed how _brawd tha' Southern dra-awl _is?" Kimana laughed.

"I can't help it. He's from near where I's from and it's kinda infectious, the way he talks and all."

"So you learning French now? Stuart's learning Tsalagi with me, and I'm pickin' up on his little...'Bristish-isms'."

"Nah, I just listen to whatever he's whisperin' and just think, 'That sounds right nice, I hope it is.' " Marie flashed a secretive smile again. "What's Tsalagi?"

"Cherokee language. Kinda funny I got a Shoshone name, but I speak Cherokee."

"Your name's pretty, no matter what culture it's from. Does it have a meanin' in English?"

"Yeah. 'Butterfly'. A bit to soft to my liking, but you're right, it sounds nice enough. Now, since we've talked all around the original question, Marie, I'm going to ask again: What has you so out of it?"

A shrug. "Losin' everybody like that I guess. Gettin' made a Council member an' all. Worryin' about us all, 'specially John and Remy. What they think a me, and if they're...I don' know, safe for now, I guess."

"You can't control it all, honey. Don't let it get to you." Kimana patted her shoulder comfortingly, excusing herself as she saw Stuart walk in.

The answer was so convincing that Kimana didn't notice that it was a lie. More or less a half-lie, but nevertheless, it was not the whole truth. Marie felt bad at not being honest, but she didn't know if she could be. Kimana might have understood, but Marie knew that Kimana would not have understood how she felt. The truth was: she was pregnant. And she was terrified that meant she'd horribly complicated things. It was bad enough John really didn't think she was all that useful as a mere human. If he found out about this...well, he'd be pissed, she just knew it. That was just John. And Remy. It was his child, but she didn't know how the hell to tell him, either. She wasn't sure how he'd take it. And there were so many other worries...

Marie was terrified what John would say more than anything. So she did the only thing that she knew how to do when she felt she was in over her head.

She ran.

She waited until the night. Remy was asleep. Her little backpack was packed with some of the clothing he had gotten her. He hadn't noticed it, as it had been hidden beneath her cloak. She shouldered the pack, donned her cloak, and then stole from their new home, out into the cold Detroit night. She had some money left from when she had run from Xavier's, and Remy had taught her how to pick pockets if it came down to it. But right now, she bought a bus ticket to somewhere.

And she left.

-------------

The satisfying thunk of the gleaming eight ball sinking into the corner right pocket ended the game. He leaned back and smirked at the blond across from him. She looked down at the table curiously and slung her blond hair over her shoulder.

"How did you do that?" she asked. He shrugged and gestured for her to pay up. The woman slapped a twenty down on the table and sashayed off to the bar. A new song began from the juke box in the corner of the room, just as the door swung open to reveal a young woman behind it. Curly black hair fell to the middle of her back, framing her pretty features and bringing out her pale skin tone. The designer, black, high-heeled boots and denim mini skirt told him that she had never been to that side of town before, as did the black leather jacket covering her black tank top.

He was racking up for a new game when he realized she stood at its end. Looking up, his gaze met with a pair of baby blues that could have made Iceman shiver. Dropping the backpack from her shoulder, onto the floor under the table, she waited for him to speak. Obviously, she was used to people giving into her demands right away. Everything about her screamed that she was on the wrong side of town, and way more than slightly uncomfortable with it.

"Lookin' for somebody?" he asked, looking her over. She lifted one slender eyebrow and nodded, looking uncomfortable under his criticizing gaze. He finally tuned into the song playing in the bar : _"She sings the revolution, the dawning of our lives, she brings this liberation, that I just can't define, nothing comes to mind. She's a rebel, she's a saint, she's the salt of the earth, and she's dangerous. She's a rebel, vigilante, missing link on the brink of destruction."_

"Allerdyce. Know him?" she asked, her voice quiet and feminine, with a hint of an accent that was so watered down he couldn't put his finger on where it came from.

"Of course," was his answer, his words dripping with sarcasm. She didn't catch on.

"Know where I can find him, then?"

"You're kinda lookin' at him," he answered her. Raising both her eyebrows, she looked him over in much the same way he had only moments before. Already, he could see the doubt in her gaze.

"You? You're the leader of the mutant Resistance?" she asked, her voice incredulous, kept low so only he could hear it. He lifted an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah. You haven't seen the news? My picture's all over the place. And just so you know, this is a bar run by mutants. You ain't gotta be all hush-hush here." She cleared her throat as he spoke, no longer laughing.

"You're serious," she asked, and when he nodded she mumbled, "You certainly don't look like you should be leading a resistance."

"Well, I am. What do you want?" he snapped.

"Can you take me to them?" she asked.

"Looking for a safe haven, or to fight?"

"To fight," she replied.

"Why?" He was all leader, now. No playing around or being sarcastic. He wasn't going to let some chick waltz into headquarters without a damn good reason. Especially if it could get people he cared about killed.

"Because somebody has to."

"There are people out there fighting right now, dying. People that I know and trust. People who are dying for you. So when you say 'because somebody has to', think twice. And when I ask 'why?', I want a straight answer. Now, what do you mean by, 'somebody has to'?" he asked. She shot him a glare that would have killed a concrete wall.

"I mean, there are mutants sitting around on their asses, waiting for something to come along and give them a reason to fight. I don't want to be one of them. I wanna fight. I realized something a while back. If we don't fight, they win. So...somebody has to. Now can you take me to them or not?"

John considered her. Definitely a far cry from Marie's meek manner. She wasn't fucking about -- she meant what she said. He could like her.

"Just maybe. You got a name, Raven?" He chose the epithet on account of her midnight tresses and dark leather.

She smiled, giving him a look. Finally, she acquiesced: "Morrigan."

* * *

_(The lyric in the page break is from "Won't Back Down" by Fuel.)_


	2. Chapter 1

curt's crap: Yeah, I didn't get a chance to re-read _Voodoo Child _by Michael Reeves, so I'm not sure on the "let the good times roll" translation. When I check out the book again, if it's different, I'll fix it.

* * *

__

-----t-h-e---i-s-o-l-a-t-i-o-n---s-t-i-n-g-s-----

**_Chapter One_**

Remy looked down deeply into the amber depths of the shot before him. He wanted to drink it. But he felt too apathetic to everything right now to act on the desire.

_Desire_. There was a notion. He snorted derision.

Five days ago, he had discovered he had grown soft. While the life he led now was quite like the one he'd always followed -- uncertain, day-to-day, rough -- Remy had grown used to certain things being about.

Certain things like Marie. He had grown used to Marie, her startling hair and shy smiles. Waking up with her all cozy beside him. It was new to him. It had felt...warming.

He should have known -- he _should have known_ -- it wouldn't last. Wasn't that how he lived his life? Moment to moment, never expecting anything to be about for longer than it was in that time, then and there. If it came back about, good. If not, _laissez le bon rouler de tmes._ Let the good times roll, don't be hampered by waiting, by nostalgia.

He'd broken his own code of living. Because of Marie.

_Damn. _But he'd been content. For the first time in his damned life, he'd been truly, happily contented. And now she'd just up and gone. Without a word, without...

He thought she had trusted him. Another notion, if there were. The runaway trusting the thief and vice versa. _Remy, what ha' you done gotten yaself into, eh? _Something far more complicated than a game of cards ever could be. Wearily, he scrubbed a hand over his face.

Marie was gone. But he was gonna find her. If he had to kidnap Kimana or Jensen or some other little telepath to do it. (Which he wouldn't, though it was an idea.) But he was gonna find her, and with that in mind he left the common room to search out John. Their fearless leader was probably still around the raven girl he brought back the day Remy had woken to find Marie gone. She -- the raven-black haired, leather-clad girl -- had taken priority, much to Remy's frustration. Hopefully, John was done initiating and letting this girl usurp Marie's importance.

-------------

"You are an insufferable...pigheaded..._jerk!_" He didn't even have time to come up with a response as a chair flew across the room, breaking over his head as he ducked. John could easily say that it was becoming one of the worst encounters of his life.

"Yeah? Well, at least I'm not a rich, stuck up brat who's had everything served to me on a silver platter! Why the hell are you still here if you don't like anything I do?" he shouted. Morrigan -- or Raven, as he'd come to call her -- let out a frustrated scream and began storming around the table.

"If I was on the council, we wouldn't be having this argument," she shouted as she drew closer to him. Taking several steps back, he ducked as another chair came flying at him.

"Hey, you're the one who's being immature because I won't let you in on things. I mean, you're destroying the furniture because I told you 'no'. Jesus, were you never told no growing up?" She let out another shriek and tossed the closest item -- a rolled-up map -- at his head. Catching it, he tossed it onto the table and turned an incredulous look on the raven-haired woman across from him.

"My father told me to never take no for an answer, you..._Scheißkopf_," she replied, spitting each word with venom. He laughed, unsure as to what she had called him, but certain it wasn't anything nice.

"So, you were daddy's little princess growing up, huh? Well, guess what, sweetheart: Daddy isn't here to buy your way onto the council. So, give it up. I mean, you've been here for _five days_ and I barely know your name and _still_ don't know what your powers are! Look: you want in, _prove_ to me I can trust you with these people's lives. Keep acting like a spoiled brat and I'll just ship you off to join the Canadian factions," he told her. He had a feeling he should have held his tongue on the last sentence, as her face darkened. Ducking another chair, he backed up some more. By the time he realized she wasn't even facing him anymore, he was backed up against the wall, with nowhere to go.

She was yelling something in another language as she paced in front of him, her speech rapidfire. He could only stand there and watch as she ranted. When she turned her furious glare on him, there was no way of getting away from whatever she would throw next.

"If you don't think you can trust me, _dann dein Kopf ist leer_, John Allerdyce. Since I have been here, I have done nothing to make you think you can't trust me. Why won't you let me on the council?" she demanded. She stomped a foot down and growled in frustration. Flinging her hair back from her face, she informed him proudly, "I work with electricity." And then she resumed her pacing.

Running a hand through his hair, the pyro let out a frustrated sigh. If she had of chosen any other time to ask, or if she had of been anyone else, he might have been more receptive to the idea. As it was, he needed another member. _But she would have to earn her badges before she recieved them. _He wasn't going to give her the easy road. And she needed to prove she was _somewhat _stable.

"You've been here five days. Maybe, say in five weeks, I'll let you on. Maybe in five months. It depends on how long it takes for me to feel assured I can trust you. And I'm not the only one who decides. Remy has a say, as does the rest of the council." Morrigan had glared, her ice blue eyes shooting daggers as John laid it out for her, before snorting her displeasure and pacing -- again. As she grabbed up something from the table, hand sparking blue as she tossed it up and down, trying not to hurl it at John as well, they were interrupted by a cough from the doorway.

John and Morrigan's heads jerked to face the noise: Remy stood at the doorway, arms folded across his chest, mouth curved in a vague smirk.

"You two quite done now, eh?"

He ducked as Morrigan threw whatever object she'd picked up from the table at him. The static around it as it sailed overhead made some of his bright auburn hair stand up.

"What is it, Remy?" John asked, warily walking past Morrigan -- keeping an eye on her -- as he went to take up an intact chair not far from his second.

Remy's eyes narrowed, unable to hide his annoyance as the reality that John really wasn't as concerned as he could be about Marie's disappearance sunk in. "I jus' wanted ya t' know I'm leavin'."

"Leaving?" John looked over as there was a soft thunk as Morrigan leant against the wall sullenly. He looked back to Remy, who was looking like he might flip, too.

"_Leavin'_, John. I'm goin' and I'm gonna find out where Marie done went, since ya don' seem t' give a damn since _she_ done shown up." Remy's demon eyes bore into Morrigan. The pissed off young woman only glared back. Remy turned back to John. "Yeah, so I'm gon' be outta here. I'll figure out how t' get in touch. But know I ain't comin' back till I find her, _comprenez?_"

These damned people and their foreign languages. "Yeah, I get it. Look --" John looked at Morrigan.

"Do you mind for a moment?" She narrowed her eyes, but pushed away from the wall to swish across the floor and out the door. Remy pulled it shut as soon as she was out it.

"She's a fuckin' handful. Look, Remy. I know I haven't done much about Marie. And it's inexcusable, really." He sighed. "I'm not gonna stop you, man. Go out, then. But come back, with or without her."

"It's gon' be wi' her, John. Come hell or high water."

-------------

It had been raining hard in Memphis when she got off the bus. It hadn't stopped as she wandered down the streets, trying her best to look like she knew what the hell she was doing. Marie hated how heavily her cloak fell against her: sodden, clinging, restricting. And it was the air was muggy to boot. Smothering. As she cowered in an alley doorway, she longed for what she'd come to call normal. Cool air. Dry clothes. A warm bed with Remy in it, his strong arm around her.

_Remy._ God, but she missed him something fierce. What was she doing?

She didn't know. She didn't know.

Marie wrapped her arms about herself and sobbed.

* * *

_(The lyric in the page break is from "Won't Back Down" by Fuel.)_


	3. Chapter 2

Hey, back with another chapter -- without the seven month interval! Don't be shy to tell us how crappy -- or on the off-chance, how good we're doing. ;-) Please just don't flame us.

curt's crap: yeah, the page break applies mostly to Marie...it's a harder song to work with. But Marie needs some luv.

kmf's stuff: reviews would be nice. If not just for the satisfaction, then to keep curt from going crazier than she already is.

* * *

_-----i-n---t-h-e---p-l-a-c-e-s---t-h-a-t---y-o-u---s-l-e-e-p-----_

**_Chapter Two_**

Soon after Remy left, John found himself thinking on how much he needed the friendship -- however awkward -- that they had formed. He couldn't help but feel empty once the older man was gone. Sighing, he tossed the papers he held onto the council table and looked around. With the entire Resistance council off checking different factions and Resistance buildings across the U.S. and Canada, he was the only one in Detroit, making decisions he didn't want to make without the council.

Ian and Ryan had checked in from D.C. earlier that day, where Ian was easily picking up on the President's plans, and Ryan was just as easily infiltrating the Capitol building. Rhane had reported back that the Nova Scotian Resistance buildings were well placed and well armed, while Erika -- in Saskatchewan -- reported that the factions were ill equipped and not getting supplies. Shasa, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, was absolutely certain that the factions there were in no need of her help and that she'd be more helpful in Detroit, with John.

He snorted. Of course she wanted to be in Detroit -- with John. The woman had barely left him alone. _She was almost as bad as Morrigan _-- which seriously said something

"Damn," he breathed out, as the phone rang. Jensen picked it up, glancing at John to let him know it was someone on the council, checking in. After a moment, he hung up. Kevin and Cyndi had reported from San Francisco, where the two were seriously stirring up things, as they had somehow rallied the faction there into wreaking havoc on the city government. Which reminded him of Tabby -- who was in New York City, busy living up to her nick-name 'Boom-Boom'.

Then there was Lance in Denver, where he was attempting to make his ability to create earthquakes useful -- and he was succeeding extremely well at it. Sam Guthrie had gone back home to Kentucky, but was stationed in Louisville, where he was checking up on some mutant factions. John was meaning to tell Sam to travel a bit around the South -- there were definitely mutants to be had through there -- Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, most of Louisiana -- but the culture there was too oppressive against "difference". Save New Orleans, he thought with a smile. New Orleans had people like Remy running about.

Last but not least was Terra, who had been sent to her roots. Chicago was a good place for a mutant with power over wind -- especially one looking to create some serious trouble.

Yes, John was lacking in Detroit, but the best of the best were making up for it all over the United States and Canada. He stood, giving Jensen a nod of indication, before leaving the room. It would only figure that as soon as he stepped out of the door, hoping for a reprieve, Morrigan would be on him like a cat on a mouse. He tried to ignore her as she began ranting about how it would be useful to have her on the council, but she followed him as he left the building, leaning against the brick wall outside.

"Do you ever stop?" he asked the electrokinetic woman that stood in front of him.

"Stop what?" she snapped, pretending to not know what he meant.

"Stop talking," he replied, wanting nothing more then to dive into his bed and sleep for a week. But no, the Resistance leader could barely get more than two hours of sleep as it was, and that meant she was even more irritating then he remembered.

"Fine. I can see you're not up to talking about this. But mark my words, John: we will talk about this." Then she was gone, leaving him room to breathe easy. He sighed, noting oddly that when she was pissed, more of her accent came through. He shook his head. If he played his cards right, he wouldn't have to deal with her again for some time. _And, oh, he hoped he played his cards right._ He could only hope that Remy was having an easier time then he was.

-------------

Remy had hotwired a car. As he drove, aimlessly as of current, he tried to reckon where Marie would have gone. Or just _why_ the hell she would have left. He slammed a hand down on the dashboard. Only seconds later, he noticed the glow around where his hand was. _Merde! Shit, shit, shit!_ He ditched the car right before it exploded, throwing himself out the door and stumbling as far away as he could, the blast throwing him to the ground. He just managed to cover his head with his arms as some shrapnel fell down about him.

_Morbleu!_ he wanted to scream as he got to his feet and started to dart away, hoping the freak explosion would be written off as gang activity or something of the sort. _Mère de Dieu. _His damned powers were unstable as hell to begin with. ...But he couldn't be mad at her. He couldn't blame her. No, Remy was far more worried for Marie than even he wanted to admit. _Calm it, eh, LeBeau? Ya're no __good to her blasted into li'l pieces at yer own doin', _oui?

No, he wouldn't be. He _would _find her. As he began to hotwire a Range Rover, he thought again on where Marie might have gone. She had told him once while they talked of their pasts in the rare moments at night when there was the leisure, that she was from Mississippi. He had long before gathered that from her accent, though. Now, where in Mississippi had she said? A city...fairly large. God -- Corinth, Jackson, Sliddell. He smiled wryly. Sliddell would mean she grew up kind of close to him. Her accent was too drawling to be from so close to Tennessee as Corinth was. So...wonderful; that left two-thirds of the entire state of Mississippi Marie could be going to.

_Could_ be.

That still left everywhere in between there and Detroit she might be now.

Or she might not even be going there.

Remy pulled onto the interstate. He would hope that he'd find her around down there, in Mississippi. He'd scour the South for the rest of his life if it took it. But he was hoping that Marie was like him: when he was off-kilter, he tried return to New Orleans if he could. He'd drive all night and all day.

_Marie, _p'tite,_ why didn't you tell me what was wrong? _

What _could_ be wrong?

-------------

Marie shivered in the soggy cardboard box she had folded herself into. She tried to hold back her sneeze but couldn't. It'd been raining for three damned days. Three days of alley hiding and Dumpster diving and begging for scraps. Since when did it rain like this in the South?

_Since your sobby-self got here. _Marie shut her eyes against the sting of tears that cutting, but nonetheless seemingly true thought caused. She wasn't as good at stiffling her sob.

"Hey, who's down there?"

Marie froze stock still where she lay. She heard the footsteps approaching, and held herself as still as she could.

And then she sneezed.

A face peered into her boz. "Darlin', you shouldn't be out in this kinda weather, honey. Come on with me -- there's a shelter two blocks down."

Marie shivered and shook her head. "I...I can't."

The benign older woman _tsk_ed. She had dark brown hair and piercing gold eyes. "Baby, you ain't gonna last out here. It ain't nothin' permanent: it's just a dry place and a warm meal."

Marie was embarrassed by how loudly her stomach rumbled at the mention of an honest-to-goodness meal. The woman smiled and offered a hand, which Marie took. "I'm Riva," the woman introduced herself.

"Marie."

* * *

_(The lyric in the page break is from "Won't Back Down" by Fuel.)_


End file.
